


The Breath We Took

by merulanoir



Series: We Name Each Other [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Don't copy to another site, M/M, Modern AU, twsecretsanta18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:22:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merulanoir/pseuds/merulanoir
Summary: A chance encounter at the university slowly becomes much more.The explicit stuff can be found on chapter 2. Skip that if you only want to enjoy feelings and a hint of angst.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Your Pumpkiness](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Your+Pumpkiness).



> Happy Yule, [Your Pumpkiness](http://marzipanic-bubblegun.tumblr.com/)! <3 You wished for Regis/Dettlaff, and since I have been thinking a lot about how they would be in a modern au setting, I decided to write this to you. :)
> 
> Beta by Dordean and Kaeltale. <3

The campus was very different from his alma mater. The buildings were almost muted with their white, unassuming fronts; only after watching them for a while did they yield their sleek poetry. One needed to stand in silence and listen, visually, to come to an understanding. The architecture was completely different to what he was used to, and it was refreshing.

It had taken Dettlaff almost all of his first year to learn to appreciate the sights of his new home. The city itself was charming, albeit much smaller than where he had grown up. After a while, he decided it was good, too: it was manageable in a human way. There were enough people for him to disappear, but the barista at the cafe next to his house remembered his name and that he didn’t take sugar with his coffee. Now, after four years, it was home.

All in all, the city was good for him. Moving away from his past was also good, in a way of sucking poison out of a wound was. It hurt, but only for a while. He had fallen back in love with the language and literary studies by the time he was finishing his Master’s, and now, as a doctoral student, he was allowed to focus on his favorite subjects. It was quite literally the happiest he could ever remember being.

Dettlaff watched the class struggle with the test. Not one of them seemed desperate, and he knew he had done well with the course. Usually doctoral students were not tasked with running more than one or two classes, but the faculty had suffered an unexpected loss in October. A well-loved professor had passed away after suffering a stroke, and someone had to take over her classes. Dettlaff hadn’t volunteered, but his name had been the first one to come up.

“ Alright guys, time’s up.”

The students, most of them in their early twenties, surrendered the papers with good-natured groans. Dettlaff accepted their tests with a smile and a nod, wishing them a good period break as they filed out of the room. Their happy chatter filled the hallway and then died away, and he was left alone with his thoughts.

Dettlaff swept a cursory glance over the room to make sure the janitor wouldn’t have any extra work on his behalf before locking the door and starting towards his office. The hallways were quiet, because only the English department still believed in evening exams. Personally, Dettlaff didn’t mind staying late, but he felt bad for his students. Surely they had better things to do.

He was deep in thought, considering the veritable merits of grading the papers right away, when he rounded a corner and walked straight into someone.

The exam papers slipped from Dettlaff’s grasp as he collided with a solid frame. There was a soft “oof” from the other person, and they dropped whatever they had been holding.

Dettlaff’s hands flew out to steady the man, gripping his shoulders as he swayed backwards. After the initial split-second shock passed, Dettlaff saw almost black eyes staring at him. He quickly let go and stepped back, feeling a mortified blush coming.

“ I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he blurted out.

The man took half a step back and only then seemed to realize the phone was no longer in his hands.

“ It’s- it’s quite alright,” he said. “I was looking elsewhere, too.” He had a quiet, soft voice.

“ I was thinking about the- the exams, my department holds the evening exams,” Dettlaff continued, suddenly hoping desperately the ground would just open up and swallow him whole. His papers were scattered on the floor and he was feeling like an idiot. Just as he was about to wish for the mercy of a quick death, the man smiled.

“ The English department? They do seem to remain stuck in the last century.” His tone wasn’t malicious, only gently teasing, and suddenly Dettlaff saw his eyes were very kind; cautious, but pulling him in. The man was perhaps ten years older than him, with dark, unruly hair, and a smile that was just barely tugging at his lips.

“ Yes. They haven’t yet received the news about Lord Byron. I don’t know how to break it to them,” Dettlaff retorted on instinct, and then mentally kicked himself. He had already made a fool of himself, and his mouth seemed inclined to worsen the situation.

“ Ah, but maybe they will finally know who killed John Keats,” the man chuckled. His eyes remained fixed on Dettlaff’s for a second before he looked away. A hint of color rose on his high cheekbones.

Dettlaff realized very abruptly that he was looking at one of the most handsome men he had ever met. He was perhaps four inches shorter than him and lithe, but his face held a trace of something he wanted to call regal. He was dressed in an unassuming dark gray button-up and black slacks, yet he still conveyed an air of easy grace. And he had answered Dettlaff’s panic-induced nerdy poetry banter.

“ I’m sure the Quarterly has been forgiven,” Dettlaff said as he crouched down and started to gather his papers. He picked up the fallen mobile phone and glanced at it. “I hope I didn’t break it,” he added as he looked up and held it out.

The man took the phone without looking at it. He was definitely blushing now, and it made him look younger. Dettlaff forgot to keep reaching for the papers as they stared at each other, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Then the man looked away. His shoulders were tense. “Nevertheless, I apologize,” he said quickly before turning heel and walking away.

Dettlaff stared after him until the sound of his footsteps faded away. Only then he realized he was still kneeling on the floor, his papers strewn around him. He shook his head as he gathered the exams up, dusting down his pants as he stood up.

That had been interesting. Whoever the man was, he had been both gorgeous and intelligent. Dettlaff couldn’t recall seeing him before now, but the university was a big place. Judging by his behavior, he definitely didn’t seem like a person to attend social gatherings.

Just as Dettlaff was about to walk away, he saw something lying on the floor. He bent down and picked up a familiar-looking ID pass. The man had apparently dropped that too, and had felt the need to escape the situation before noticing.

Dettlaff looked at the photo, and concluded he hadn’t been wrong just now; the man was almost eerily handsome, but not in a classical way. His nose was hooked and he had cheekbones so sharp you could cut yourself on them, but his eyes were clever and calm, and peering severely at the camera. Dettlaff let out a breath as he felt something tug at his heart, and immediately balked. He would not make this awkward, for heaven’s sake.

He glanced at the pass once more. The man was called Emiel Regis.

Dettlaff would look him up on the university database and return his pass. And that would be it.

***

Regis leaned his head into his hands in the silence of his office. He had spent the previous night and all morning rummaging through his belongings, and was now forced to conclude his pass card was missing. He must have dropped it with his phone, when he had walked straight into the black-haired man from the English department.

The memory made his heart rate pick up. Regis had been completely absorbed in a text message from a former colleague when he barreled into him. In retrospect, Regis realized that the stranger had been the first person to touch him in a very long time. He had expected to recoil, but the touch had almost grounded him. Then his mind had screeched to a halt, because the man’s eyes had been a very pale shade of blue, and Regis had lost himself in them.

He had been so perplexed his shyness hadn’t kicked in until he had actually started joking with the man. The stranger’s voice had been dark, and while he, too, had been fighting down his embarrassment, he had looked at Regis almost as if he was curious. Regis’ throat had felt like it would close up, and he had all but ran away.

Now he was trying to gather up his courage to make the walk to the info desk and to come up with a plausible explanation for his lost pass. He hated talking to people he didn’t know, and doing so to admit he had screwed something up was infinitely worse. Distantly Regis wondered how and when had his life reached a point when everyday social situations had become so overwhelming.

Annoyed at his nerves, Regis pushed away from his cluttered desk and walked to the door. He drew in a breath, opened the door with more force than was necessary, and almost walked into the black-haired stranger again.

The man had his hand raised up, presumably to knock, and he was now staring at Regis. Regis blinked frantically, but his brain could only point out they were standing very close to each other, and unhelpfully add that the stranger was every bit as handsome as he had been the previous night.

“ Oh!” the man finally said. He quickly stepped back, the hand flying to his neck. “I’m sorry.”

Regis opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was trapped inside his malfunctioning brain, and could feel blood rushing to his face.

“ I- I found your pass,” the man said after a short silence. His hand flew to his pocket, and he dug out a familiar blue and violet card. “You dropped it, and I found it, so...” He trailed off, looking at the pass like he hoped it would save them both from this situation.

Regis finally wrenched himself free from his stupor.

“ Thank you,” he said, voice suddenly going hoarse. “I was… on my way to request a new one, truth be told.”

The man smiled, and his expression was so open it momentarily made Regis forget his hands were shaking. It was a very nice smile.

“ I needed to look you up on the phone book, and finding your office was a bit of an adventure,” he explained. He couldn’t be much older than thirty, but his black hair had just a few strands of silver in it. It looked soft, and Regis realized he was staring.

“ Ah. Yes,” Regis answered, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he looked away. “You’re not the first one to tell me that.”

The man chuckled, and the sound wormed its way into Regis’ head, settling into a place labeled ‘things I seem to like a lot and have no idea how to acquire more of.’

“ Anyway, here you are,” the man said and offered the card. Regis reached for it, and their fingers brushed. He managed not to flinch. He carefully tucked the card into his pocket, and then found all words he knew had suddenly deserted him. He managed to look the man in the eyes, and his stomach made an unhealthy swoop.

The man smiled again, shyer this time. “My name is Dettlaff van der Eretein. Seems only fair to introduce myself because I found out your name.” His hand moved an inch, like he thought to extend it to Regis and then decided against it.

Regis realized he was supposed to say something, but his throat was closing up again. He wanted to turn heel and run away, away from those clear eyes and this strange man who kept treating him like he was somehow worth his kindness.

Something must have shown on Regis’ face, because all of a sudden Dettlaff’s uncertain smile turned soft. His eyes dropped to Regis’ hands, which were clenched together. Then he lifted his gaze again, and a look of understanding passed over his face like a ghost.

“ It’s all right, Emiel,” he said quietly. He nodded, still smiling, and turned away. Regis saw a hint of regret in the twist of Dettlaff’s mouth before he started to walk away. The sound of footsteps finally rattled something loose inside of him.

“ Regis.”

Dettlaff turned around, eyes alight. He tilted his head. “Pardon?”

“ I go by Regis.”

Regis held Dettlaff’s gaze for a few seconds, and the Dettlaff smiled again, once more nearly blinding Regis.

“ Alright. Regis,” Dettlaff repeated. He nodded again and walked away.

Regis escaped back to his office. He slumped down onto his chair before hiding his head behind his hands. His face felt like it was on fire.

***

Dettlaff saw Regis standing next to other people he recognized as personnel from the medical research unit. He had been surprised to find out Regis was actually one of the best researchers the university had in his field, orthopaedic trauma surgery. He didn’t teach any classes or have other administrative duties, which in itself was almost unheard of. The university had a habit of roping every skilled individual into either of them. Usually both.

Dettlaff continued to watch Regis, because the meeting was boring and didn’t concern him personally. Something about social media and reaching out to the real world. Definitely not something the English department would do in the upcoming decades; majority of the professors still had trouble figuring out email.

Regis was occasionally exchanging words with a woman who was standing next to him. He looked serious, but didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the topic at hand. He kept his back very straight, and more than anything he looked like he wished to be somewhere else.

Dettlaff didn’t mean to stalk Regis, but he found himself being… intrigued by him. They had exchanged so little words, and almost nothing of substance, and still Dettlaff had a nagging sensation that Regis would be worth the trouble to befriend. He couldn’t explain it, so he definitely didn’t talk about it to any of his friends or colleagues.

When the meeting ended, Dettlaff had a vague thought of getting the biggest coffee the campus cafe was legally allowed to sell him, before diving back into writing his thesis. He was on the home stretch, or it was starting to feel like it. His thesis defense was still several months away, but he wanted to do well; he needed the university in his life, but the university wouldn’t need him if he wasn’t good enough.

When he entered the cafe, he was glad to discover it almost empty, and even more glad to spy the familiar figure at the counter.

“ Hi,” he said with a smile as he stepped next to Regis. “Fascinating event, don’t you think?”

Regis’ black eyes flickered to him and away again. He was silent for a second too long, before chuckling quietly. “Indeed.”

“ Taking into account your assessment about my faculty, exactly how long do you estimate it will take them to join the social media?” Dettlaff said as he glanced away. He was coming to understand Regis found it uncomfortable if he was looked at too long.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dettlaff saw Regis’ lips curl upwards. He was also blushing again, and why did it look so good on him?

“ Ah. I wouldn’t leave a candle burning,” he finally said.

“ Mm. My thoughts exactly,” Dettlaff laughed. He met Regis’ eyes for a second, enjoying the first real moment when they could just talk. Regis was wearing a black cardigan on top of his button up. He was tense, but didn’t look like he would bolt away like last time.

“ I confess I looked up your latest paper,” Dettlaff said to keep the conversation going. He was fairly certain Regis wouldn’t shoulder that responsibility; to his surprise, he didn’t mind.

Regis’ eyes darted back to him, and he forgot to move when the line crawled towards the register. He blinked a few times.

“ You did?” His voice was hesitant.

Dettlaff nodded. “I’m by no means anything of a medical expert, but I did find it fascinating.”

“ Why?” Regis blurted out. He actually bit his lip as he looked away.

“ Curiosity,” Dettlaff said honestly. “You were joking about Byron and Keats with me, so I was surprised to see you were in a completely different field.”

Regis smiled as he looked down. “I, uh, read a lot. Nothing more to it, I’m afraid.”

Someone cleared his throat behind Dettlaff, and he nudged Regis gently with his elbow. The doctor moved quickly out of his reach and busied himself with his wallet.

Dettlaff tried to come up with something else to say. He wanted to keep talking to Regis, and he couldn’t find a single thing to explain it.

After Regis ordered his coffee and waited for it to be prepared, he stole another look at Dettlaff.

“ You’re working on your dissertation, aren’t you?” he inquired. It was impossible to tell whether he really cared, or was simply making the minimal effort to seem polite.

“ I am,” Dettlaff said. “Does it show?”

Regis shook his head.  “ I was simply making a guess, based on your age.”

“ I thought everyone with a PhD was saddled with teaching work. How come you have managed to avoid it?” Dettlaff asked without thinking. He knew right away he had made a mistake, although the  _ why  _ remained a mystery.

Regis’ face closed off and he looked away. His coffee was offered to him, and he snatched it with a curt nod.

“ That is none of your business,” Regis told Dettlaff without looking at him, his voice suddenly cold and distant. With that, he hurried away, leaving Dettlaff staring after him. Only after the barista called him by his name did he realize the whole line was looking at him.

***

Regis paused outside the door and tried to calm his racing heart. He had known for weeks where Dettlaff’s office was, and now he was here. The building around him was silent, save for the flickering fluorescent light buzzing at the end of the corridor. He looked at the name plaque, at the printed notice about the TA office hours, and at a postcard written completely in IPA transcription; apparently one of the students had sent it to Dettlaff from a trip south.

Regis had known where he might find Dettlaff, and yet he hadn’t dared to come. After panicking at the cafe and then behaving in the worst possible way, Regis had steered clear of the humanities building. He had seen the younger man a few times at the campus cafeteria, and each time he had desperately wanted to go to him and apologize; every time his throat had closed up, because how could he explain?

Regis knew his past weighed him down. In the course of the years he had come to accept his shortcomings as parts of his character, and as something he’d spend the rest of his life making up for. There was no way for him to forgive himself for slipping that far into addiction when he had been younger, and endangering his patients in the process. He had broken his oath as a doctor, and while he felt like he could never mend it, he would damn well try.

What he had not considered was his erratic heart getting out of control whenever Dettlaff spoke to him. Hell, he hadn’t expected to befriend even his closest colleagues, let alone someone from a different faculty. Regis had been resigned to spending his years trying to give his best to the research, because fundamentally he didn’t deserve anything more after his misspent youth.

And now he stood here, staring at the name that tugged at his heart, and he had no idea what to do. All things considered, he was probably being foolish to come here after everyone else had gone home for the day. A person like Dettlaff surely had a social life, and thus would not spend his evenings at the university.

Regis knocked before his nerves got the best of him, and then proceeded to both hope no one was in  _ and _ that the door would open. He was certain he would only make things worse, but he hadn’t been able to sleep properly since the cafe incident. His heart had felt heavy at the memory of hurt on Dettlaff’s face, especially since it had been so undeserved. The least Regis could do was apologize, and then get the hell out of here.

The door creaked open, and Regis forgot to breathe. Dettlaff was standing in the doorway, illuminated by a desk lamp, his black shirt open at the collar. A cautious, happy smile was taking over his face. There was a short silence, and then Regis forced himself to speak.

“ I’m sorry I was rude,” he said. It would have been polite to start with a ‘good evening,’ but Regis knew he’d trip over himself if he tried anything.

Dettlaff looked down, still smiling. “It’s alright. I’m sorry I got nosy.”

Regis looked at him, surprised, but Dettlaff kept his eyes averted. For a second, Regis felt a confusing mixture of relief, and then it dawned on him Dettlaff must have picked up on his discomfort; the younger man was looking the other way, because for some reason he understood Regis was uncomfortable when people stared at him.

A flood of something unidentifiable broke free inside Regis. He tried to swallow, but it was useless. He wanted to say something, anything, but it had been years since he had been trying to be anything but professional. Dettlaff cast a quick glance at him, and then looked over his shoulder. The lamp light caught his hair from behind, and for a second he was almost glowing.

“ Do you like tea?”

Regis registered the bubbling sound an electric kettle made, and the subsequent click. He nodded, because he realized there and then he didn’t want to leave; he wanted to stay and soak in the warmth Dettlaff seemed to radiate, all because it momentarily cast aside the chill of always being alone.

“ I don’t actually have tea. I have this… rooibos stuff,” Dettlaff continued as he walked back into his office. He fiddled with the kettle and poured steaming water into two cups. He looked tired and pale, but maybe that was just because of the harsh light of his lamp.

“ It’s called the red bush,” Regis said, looking away as Dettlaff’s eyes found him again. “It’s naturally caffeine free.”

“ Is it?” Dettlaff chuckled. “No wonder it’s been doing me little good. I thought it’d help keep me awake.” He put one cup down onto the table and sat down with his own. Regis picked up the cup, wondering if this, too, was one more small considerate measure; if Dettlaff had noticed he got jumpy when people touched him.

At the heels of that thought came another, whispering that touching Dettlaff hadn’t been repulsive. Regis clutched at his mug, staring into the dark red liquid, and hoped in vain he wasn’t blushing. He was naturally pale, and whenever he felt overwhelmed or embarrassed, he could feel his cheeks grow hot.

“ I’m actually very bad at small talk, so what I wanted to say was that I didn’t mean to pry about your personal business,” Dettlaff broke the silence. Regis’ eyes snapped up, and he met the pale blue ones.

“ I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Regis said, unable to look away. “I’m just…very, very bad with people,” he finished lamely, finally averting his gaze.

A laugh drew his eyes back, and Dettlaff’s relieved smile melted something cold inside his chest.

“ I have no idea why I feel like I want to get to know you,” Dettlaff said, and then it was his turn to look away and blush.

Regis stared at him, trying to wrap his head around what he had heard. The younger man was pursing his lips together and staring at his tea, as if hoping he could unsay the words; Regis got the impression Dettlaff was again more worried about making him uncomfortable than anything else.

Some of his ever-present tension yielded, unprompted. Regis was still feeling wary, but part of him was lit up by a tiny, hopeful flame. It banished darkness from some long-forgotten corners inside him, and made it easier to hold the eye contact.

“ I understand there are a few notable researchers of contemporary poetry in your faculty,” Regis said, his brain picking up the slack in a way that it had refused to do for years. “Are you writing your thesis on that, as well?”

Dettlaff’s eyes brightened. “I do love poetry. It’s something of a hobby of mine to look up translations of poems I have no hope to read in their original languages.” He laughed, sipping his tea. “I’m curious about the process of translating poetry, because I know it’s such an instinctual thing to write.”

“ Obscure languages?” Regis asked. He leaned forward a bit, warming his hands around the mug.

“ Anything but English, really,” Dettlaff grinned. “But I have a few favorite poets, and part of the charm is the knowledge that I can never grasp the fundamentals behind their work because I don’t speak their native tongue.”

“ Such as?”

Dettlaff blew out a breath as he leaned back and smiled fondly. “Oh. Wow. Let me think. I have eidetic memory, so the poems stick to my head very easily.”

Regis watched him think, his eyes tracking the small movements of Dettlaff’s lips as he felt out the words. After a short silence Dettlaff looked at him. “One of my favorite poems is kind of sad. But it actually talks about dogs, so it’s not that bad.”

Regis huffed a laugh. “Let’s hear it.”

Dettlaff looked down, his smile softening around the edges. “Everyone's always in a hurry. In the grave it stops./ When sorrow came and furrowed your face,/ Jesus came to the door, oh those eyes, that/ strange man transported to bliss, oh that grueling sympathy./ You could see at once he saw straight into/ the heart, which was tear-shaped,/ which had tried to love/ even with a knife in its fist.”

It was sad. Regis wondered briefly what made Dettlaff like this particular piece so much; it was a kind of curiosity he hadn’t experienced in years. He didn’t know how to ask about it, but he made a mental note to look the poem up. Maybe they could talk about it later. Regis also knew enough about poetry to hear the pauses and enjoy them. He listened to the soothing words, and Dettlaff’s calm voice drifted around him. He didn’t care much for the theory behind poetry, but hearing poems spoken aloud was an experience in its own right.

Dettlaff looked up, his eyes more open than before. “I like obscure poetry,” he said, shrugging. “But I confess I also have a soft spot for Neruda and Pinter.”

“ Pinter?” Regis finally remembered to take a sip of the tea, and found he liked the taste. It wasn’t exactly sweet; it tasted warm and unassuming.

“ Harold Pinter,” Dettlaff elaborated. “He is a British dramatist. One of the best, if you ask me. His plays are… weird, but in a very intriguing way. My personal favorite is the one called  _ Old Times _ .”

Regis shook his head. “I’m afraid my literary cognizance is dwarfed by yours. You said Pinter writes poems as well as plays?”

“ He does,” Dettlaff said. “And they are weird as well, but I like them for some reason. ‘It Is Here’ is a good example of that.”

“ Well, to be fair, weirdness is hardly the thing that steers people away from poetry,” Regis shrugged. “I think it’s more to do with the dragging weight of tradition. People think of the great poets as something untouchable, when in reality they were mostly writing about life in its glorious mundaneness.”

Regis realized this was probably the most he had spoken in one go for over a year. He looked at his tea, but the choking, scrabbling panic stayed away. It peeked around the corner of his mind, but seemed content to stay put, for the time being.

Dettlaff smiled at him, fiddling with his mug. He glanced at his computer and sighed. “The truth is, my thesis has nothing to do with poetry. I’m researching young-adult literature, focusing on dystopian settings and their role as political and sociological commentary.”

He looked away then, and from his expression even Regis could read that the topic was something Dettlaff had been forced to defend on several occasions. He had looked up the general research focus of the faculty, and in that light Dettlaff’s choice settled into focus as something born out of a deep personal interest.

“ I would like to hear more about it, if you don’t mind explaining,” Regis heard himself say. Dettlaff’s shoulders relaxed when he understood he was not being judged.

“ Only if you tell me about your research,” Dettlaff answered, his tone gently teasing. Regis could tell he wouldn’t be forced to talk about his work if he didn’t want to, but for once the thought of speaking aloud didn’t fill him with dread. Dettlaff’s interest seemed genuine, just good old-fashioned curiosity, and something in it spoke to Regis.

“ Alright,” Regis said, smiling a bit. “So, why dystopian settings?”

***

Dettlaff felt his heart leap at the sound of knocking on his door. He got up and let Regis in, because even after two months of meeting a few times a week, the doctor wouldn’t enter his office uninvited. It was oddly sweet, as were a great many things about him. Regis had been reading the books Dettlaff was researching, and discussing them from a fresh standpoint had helped him over several blocks on his way to finishing his thesis. The effort Regis made to have things to talk about was making Dettlaff’s heart ache, for some reason.

Dettlaff had been resigned to accept he had screwed up back at the cafe, after making Regis escape the situation. He had spent a sleepless night thinking about it, after which he buried himself in his work; he had taught himself to be alone, and a brief sparkle of hope wouldn’t be enough for him to get distracted.

And then Regis had come back, and Dettlaff had started to feel hopeful again. The doctor was still quiet, still blushing, but he talked to him. Dettlaff knew they were just two desperately lonely people trying to find common ground, but what nagged at him was that neither of them had been searching for anything. What could make Regis seek him out, when he had spent the first month of their acquaintance avoiding him?

As he came in, Regis offered him that same half-smile Dettlaff had come to associate with feeling content. The doctor took his customary seat, and Dettlaff went to pour the tea. Their moments together were composed of equal parts of tranquil talk and silence, and Dettlaff was coming to crave both of those things. And whenever Regis forgot his nerves, his intelligence shone through like a ray of sunshine breaking through the November gloom; his shoulders relaxed and his smile lost its edges, making him seem younger.

“ How has your week been?” Dettlaff asked, trying to focus on the task at hand.

His own days had been crammed full, because the faculty had forgotten to inform him of booking someone to wax the floors, and because of that he was currently at his office at nine in the evening on a Friday night, trying to catch up on work that had accumulated while his computer had been inaccessible to him. He was feeling tired, but seeing Regis made his mood lighten up.

“ Unusual, in fact. My boss is trying to talk me into giving lectures,” Regis answered. Dettlaff glanced over his shoulder, meeting the black eyes. The doctor looked away after a second, but he was smiling slightly.

“ I’ve, uh. Tried to make her see it’s not a very good idea.”

“ What is she saying to that?” Dettlaff asked as he dug out the last tea bags, reminding himself to buy more.

“ She is convinced I would be a splendid teacher,” Regis said, actually chuckling. “If only.”

Dettlaff turned around, holding the two mugs in his hands. Regis was looking at him, his eyes heavy with some unidentifiable feeling.

“ You certainly don’t lack the knowledge-” Dettlaff begun, and as he took a step he managed to stumble.

He didn’t feel the scalding hot tea splash on his hand. He saw the mugs fall and shatter, and for a moment dread made him dizzy. It passed, and then the pain hit home. Dettlaff hissed and cradled his left hand. The skin was turning red, and hurting viciously.

He was distracted from his agony by cool fingers wrapping around his wrist. Regis was looking at him, frowning.

“ Come, we need to get cold water on that,” the doctor said and tugged Dettlaff with him, not wasting a second. Dettlaff followed automatically, trying to understand the sudden change in his companion. They walked briskly along the dim corridor to the bathroom, and only when Regis pushed his hand under a faucet and turned it all the way to cold, did Dettlaff realize the doctor was still holding on to him.

Regis kept the hold on his hand, turning it under the cold spray, and Dettlaff lost himself watching his face. For once, it was completely open, focused and calm. His hair had been cut recently, and it was only curling at the ends. Regis’ eyes, almost black but still warm, were unflinching and gentle. He smelled familiar, the earthy notes of his aftershave making Dettlaff relax despite the pain.

The observations flickered through his mind like sparks, and right then Dettlaff felt how close to each other they were standing, how steadily Regis held his wrist. The earth seemed to tilt sideways for one dizzying second as understanding tore through his mind, and suddenly he knew what he was feeling. The realization exploded inside his chest like a firework, and Dettlaff twitched.

Regis turned sharp eyes to him. “Are you hurting?” His voice was steady and much stronger than usually.

“ I- No, I mean, yes,” Dettlaff managed to get out. He wanted to run away, because Regis was so close, and by now Dettlaff knew he liked writing his notes by hand, forgot to eat when he was focusing on his work, and had a habit of going on walks by the riverside during weekends. Dettlaff had seen glimpses of the person Regis was, and suddenly he could tell he wanted a lot more. The thought scared him witless.

Dettlaff carefully extracted his hand from Regis’ grip and continued to hold it under the faucet. The doctor looked up at him, and then stepped back, clearly only now seeing they had been so close as to touch each other.

“ You need to cool it down properly,” Regis said, gesturing to the scald. “Otherwise the damage will be much worse.”

Dettlaff nodded, not completely trusting his voice yet. His stomach was churning. What the hell was wrong with him?

“ Once you’ve cooled it, you should keep it clean and cover it. I’m guessing you might get some blisters, and it’s absolutely forbidden to pop them,” the doctor continued. “The scald isn’t too big, thankfully, so you should manage without antibiotics. But, if it starts to swell, I can prescribe you some.”

“ Alright, understood,” Dettlaff got out, looking down before everything that was roiling inside him was exposed. His throat felt tight, and the pain from the injury seemed to be crawling up his arm, making it difficult to focus on anything. He feared he would faint or puke, because it would be like the crown jewel for this disaster. He was distracted when Regis lifted his hand, and after a second’s hesitation pressed it against his shoulder.

“ You’re very pale. Are you feeling dizzy?” Regis asked. Dettlaff wanted to laugh, but he suspected it wouldn’t improve his claim to be completely fine.

“ I’ll manage,” he said, unable to look away from Regis’ face. His stomach dropped, because this was  _ bad _ ; how could he have succeeded in ignoring what had been building inside him? Why did this aching longing have to burst free now? And why Regis?

They fell silent. Dettlaff continued to cool his hand, and his mind felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out. He couldn’t remember feeling this lost for years now, and that was before he even got to the fact that Regis was a man; Dettlaff had never found men attractive before, but now there seemed to be no end to the things he found appealing about Regis. To make it worse, he was acutely aware of them right now. It threw him off the balance he’d spent years rebuilding.

Regis looked at him again, frowning. “Are you sure you’re feeling good? You’re looking nauseous.” His voice was slipping back into the gentle, quiet register, and it soothed Dettlaff’s nerves. He took a few breaths, focusing only on the immediate reality as he had learned to do when things became overwhelming. 

It was still only Regis; no matter how unsettled Dettlaff was upon understanding his attraction, it would be okay. Nothing would come of this.

It would be okay.

“ Just a bit of a shock,” Dettlaff muttered, not entirely sure if he was referring to the scald, or the sudden desire to press Regis against a wall and kiss him breathless. Imagining it made him tingle.

Regis smiled, finally removing his hand from Dettlaff’s shoulder. The loss of contact helped Dettlaff pull himself back together. He would just need to reign this in.

***

A knock on his door drew him back into the present moment. Dettlaff wanted to tell the person to go away, no, to fuck off; he had quite enough on his plate as it was. A headache was forming behind his temples, and his nerves felt like they would snap any moment now if that damned printer would still refuse to cooperate. He had less than fifteen hours to get everything ready for his thesis defense.

The door creaked open without a warning, and all breath went out of him. Regis was standing there, smiling that half-smile of his, and holding two cups of coffee. He had never come into Dettlaff’s office without a warning before.

“ Hello. I surmised you might need this,” Regis said. He entered the room without waiting for an answer and offered Dettlaff one of the paper cups. “You don’t take sugar?”

Dettlaff felt the tension leak out of him. Suddenly he was feeling much better.

“ Thank you.” His fingers brushed against Regis’ as he took the cup, and for one wild moment Dettlaff wanted to drop the coffee and drag the doctor closer. He had tried and tried to will his attraction away during the spring semester, to absolutely no avail. His heart kept aching, his head kept feeling dizzy whenever Regis smiled at him, and Dettlaff had long ago given up on even trying to understand it all.

“ What’s this? Feeling sympathetic to my jitters?” he asked instead, taking a sip of the coffee to mask how undone he suddenly was.

“ Yes.” Regis’ eyes fell to his own cup, and the familiar hint of a blush started to appear on his face. “I remember how nervous I was, before my own presentation, and I thought… I thought you might appreciate-”

Dettlaff smiled, then. Regis glanced at him and looked away again, but he seemed to relax a bit. He remained standing, but for once he didn’t look like he would run away if Dettlaff looked at him for more than two seconds. It was such a pity, because Dettlaff felt like he would never tire of watching Regis. He was a quirky, beautiful man, and in the end it didn’t seem to matter that he was a man, anyway; Dettlaff’s heart apparently didn’t give a toss about it.

“ Thank you, Regis.”

Regis finally found his smile, and he looked Dettlaff in the eye. The silence stretched between them, and Dettlaff would have given anything to just cross the distance; Regis was still blushing, and Dettlaff knew he was so, so screwed. Something about this quiet, shy man drew him in, and he didn’t care what it was anymore. He would hang onto it, even if he never got to press close and tell Regis how he felt. Sometime between November and April Dettlaff had managed to tangle up his heart into this mess, and now there was no getting out of it.

Not when Regis was slowly starting to reach out to him. The doctor would smile when they met, and his black eyes would flicker between Dettlaff’s and whatever he was clutching in his hands. In the rare instances when Dettlaff managed to get Regis to talk about something he was passionate about, his soft voice would ebb and flow around him, growing slightly stronger. Dettlaff was addicted to seeing Regis forget about his nerves and become the man he was underneath the weight he seemed to carry. What he saw in those glimpses whispered to him, telling him not to let it go, because there would be nothing equal for him to find.

***

Dettlaff sagged against the wall of the empty corridor outside the ceremony hall and blew out a breath. It was finally over. Or finally starting, and it didn’t matter; he had survived. He was allowed to stay here, he could continue doing what he loved. His opponent had told him he had done extremely well, and suddenly there were tears in his eyes. His head was full of rushing sounds and nonsense susurrus.

A door opened some way to his left, and Dettlaff turned away from it to hide his face. He wiped a hand over his eyes and drew in a breath, trying to regain the calm that had overtaken him earlier during his presentation. It wouldn’t come, and his breath hitched. It was finally done. The happiness would follow, he only needed to ride out the wave of shock and relief first.

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump. Dettlaff glanced over; an excuse was ready to fall from his mouth, when he saw the black eyes.

Regis held onto him until he finally turned around. Dettlaff tried to look away, but suddenly the doctor brushed his fingers against his cheek and he froze. It was probably the first time Regis had touched him out of his own free will, Dettlaff thought. Suddenly he was stuck in time, staring at Regis, and once again the damned hope started to blister him.

_ I am falling in love with you,  _ Dettlaff thought at the back of his mind, not for the first time.  _ Because you are kind and shy, and because you would never hurt me. I would be happy with you, if only you would let me in. _

The doctor smiled. “You did so well. I’m forever in awe of your dedication to your research.”

Dettlaff exhaled, trying to regain some measure of composure. He felt like a raw nerve, and Regis’ fingers were still brushing against his cheek, driving his heart rate through the ceiling.

“ It’s not the most important field of study-” he begun, but Regis shook his head.

“ You’re willing to stand up to the calcified academics. How else will we move forward?” His voice was kind and familiar, and Dettlaff had to look away for a second. He wanted nothing more than to close the distance and kiss Regis, show him that he mattered; that he was more important than his work, and that Dettlaff was hopelessly entangled in his charm and unwilling to ever wrench himself free. If only…

Dettlaff was absolutely certain his inner storm was plain for Regis to see right then. He suspected the doctor had an inkling how Dettlaff felt about him, in any case. Despite having sworn he wouldn’t say or do anything, Dettlaff knew he had not managed to keep his feelings a secret. He just couldn’t help wearing his heart on his sleeve, despite the damage it had suffered in the past.

“ What was that sound that came in on the dark? What is this maze of light it leaves us in?” Regis whispered into the silence. His voice was breathless, almost scared.

Dettlaff’s eyes snapped back to him. Regis swallowed before he went on, the familiar words of Dettlaff’s favorite poem falling from his mouth and finding their way home.

“What is this stance we take, to turn away and then turn back? What did we hear?”

“ It was the breath we took when we first met,” Dettlaff finished automatically, his mind dazed.

Regis stepped closer, his chest barely brushing against Dettlaff’s.

“ Just so,” Regis whispered, and then he leaned in.

Dettlaff met him halfway. The moment their lips met, his hands were already tugging Regis closer by the waist, and the doctor didn’t resist. They pressed together, and Dettlaff felt like his heart might stop right then, because Regis’ arms were around his neck, and he was being kissed like never before. Dettlaff buried his hand into the dark hair, holding Regis against himself, and his heart was beating so fast it might stop any second.

Regis kissed him like he had stored away months’ worth of wishes to do so. There was nothing shy or hesitant about it, and it hurt because it was too good to be true. Dettlaff held onto Regis, and the broken pieces inside his chest jangled almost painfully; he would do anything to keep this.

When they finally pulled back, Dettlaff was readying himself to let Regis go. He half-expected the doctor to run away, and even though it made him sick to his core, Dettlaff was prepared to let him do so. It was not his place to ask for anything.

But Regis did not pull back. His arms stayed around Dettlaff’s neck as he looked down and bit his lip. His cheeks were burning up, and Dettlaff wanted to run his fingers over them.

“ I’m very bad with people,” Regis said, echoing his words from the fall. His gaze remained fixed at Dettlaff’s chest. “But I can’t… ignore this. I can’t. Not anymore.”

Regis seemed so lost then, his eyes wide and scared. Dettlaff saw him battling his shyness, and it twisted his heart. He wanted to pull Regis out of that grave.

Instead of offering words, Dettlaff tightened his grip around Regis’ waist, bending down to brush their lips together. He wanted to ask if it was okay, if he was allowed to feel this way, but how could he? It seemed they were both equally lost when it came to this.

“ What is this, then?” Dettlaff asked instead.

Regis sighed, hugging him close. His head came to rest on Dettlaff’s shoulder, and it felt natural.

“ I would like to be with you, in any capacity you’d allow,” Regis whispered. “I have never felt this way about another man, so I’m most likely making a fool of myself here.”

Dettlaff drew back and cupped Regis’ cheek, drawing his eyes back up.

“ The feeling is mutual,” he said. “In case that was even slightly unclear.”

Regis huffed a small, relieved laugh, and Dettlaff smiled, his heart beating fast again.

“ This is new for me as well,” Dettlaff went on, choosing his words carefully. “But I would be happy to see where this goes.”

Regis’ smile softened, most of the agitation melting away before Dettlaff kissed him again. Even though they were both lost in this, Regis felt like the new north on Dettlaff’s compass. They would be able to find their way through this together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut.

Regis was sitting close to Dettlaff on the sofa, feeling solid and warm under his arm. Dettlaff buried his nose into the dark curls, and he felt Regis’ chuckle vibrate through him where their sides were pressed together. A movie was playing, but he suspected neither of them were paying it much attention.

He inhaled, and once again reminded himself that he would let Regis set the pace. He would wait until Regis wanted to do more than press close and occasionally kiss him, because Dettlaff would rather commit high treason than drive him away. Just being close and feeling his heartbeat was more than Dettlaff had dared to hope for.

Regis glanced up at Dettlaff, and his small smile sent a stab of sheer adoration through the younger man. Dettlaff could count the times they had kissed with his fingers and toes, and he was feeling like a damned teenager all over again; just feeling Regis now, his lithe form against him was making heat crawl under Dettlaff’s skin. They had been walking this road for a few weeks now, and Dettlaff couldn’t ever remember being happier.

The pure excitement wasn’t even born out the nerves over the fact that Regis was a man, and that Dettlaff could claim no experience whatsoever in that field. No, just knowing how much Regis apparently trusted him to allow this to happen was making Dettlaff’s knees weak and wobbly. And when they kissed Dettlaff had to restrain himself, so as not to pull Regis flush against himself and sneak hands under his shirt. He had gotten the barest of taste what Regis was like as a lover, and his heart was going wild with want and love.

Regis tilted his head up, ignoring the movie and cupping Dettlaff’s cheek. He looked calm and questioning, but Dettlaff felt his pulse picking up before he leaned in for a kiss. Something about Regis was impossibly sweet, and Dettlaff let out a happy sigh as he tugged Regis just a bit closer.

They had agreed they’d move slowly, that they would explore this together. Dettlaff knew Regis hadn’t been with another man before either, and the new territory they were crossing was exciting and scary.

Dettlaff was over thirty, and still he was feeling like he was young again, giddy with the sensation of another person’s lips brushing against his, eager to the point of desperation to get more than a taste. The novelty of kissing another man wasn’t showing any signs of wearing off, and Dettlaff kept wondering how he had never thought about this before.

Regis always kissed him like he was pouring all his attention into the act. That alone was so damn good, but right then Dettlaff felt Regis’ tongue brush against his lips. Before Dettlaff could stop himself, his breath hitched and his lips parted. There was a moment of stillness, just long enough for him to feel a cold hand around his heart, and then Regis twisted around with a stuttering breath, pressing against Dettlaff and his tongue returning with more courage. A hand was suddenly threading into his hair and gripping it, and Dettlaff melted against Regis; his hands were holding onto his lover, mapping out the expanse of his back through the shirt.

By the time they finally managed to draw back, Regis’ lips were swollen and Dettlaff realized he had managed to maneuver the doctor halfway into his lap. Dettlaff licked his lips, blinking dazedly, and Regis’ face broke into a hesitant, happy smile.

“ Oh, dear,” he whispered. “You’re gorgeous.” His blush deepened at the words, but his black eyes remained fixed onto Dettlaff’s.

Dettlaff tried to swallow. He was on the verge of blurting out the three words he thought every time Regis kissed him. It was too early for that, but he could think them all he wanted.

Regis leaned back in, lips ghosting over Dettlaff’s. “I’ve been… hesitating,” he said quietly. “But I’m not sure why anymore.”

When Regis kissed him and cradled his head with both hands, Dettlaff felt something give. Before he realized it, his hands were brushing against bare skin where Regis’ shirt was riding up, and the doctor let out a breathy, delighted sound at the contact before resuming teasing his mouth with his tongue and nipping at his lips. Dettlaff swept his hands against the hot skin, and his heart was so full of joy and need he was spilling over with it.

And then Regis pulled back, eyes decisive as he moved to straddle Dettlaff’s lap. Dettlaff’s breath left him in one long huff as he felt Regis press against him, so much more intimately than before. He knew right away he wouldn’t be able to hide how aroused he was, but the thought was swept away the next second when Regis pushed still closer and their hips collided.

Dettlaff wasn’t the only one who was turned on. Regis was hard, pressing right against him, and Dettlaff rushed into another kiss as he tried and failed to still his hips. The small movement dragged a low groan from Regis, and Dettlaff stroked his hands up his sides in response. He was feeling drunk, his brain a befuddled mess, and he wanted to make Regis utter more of those small, wonderful sounds he was currently making.

Regis broke the kiss and leaned down to nuzzle Dettlaff’s neck, pressing kisses down it, and Dettlaff’s hips actually bucked up; Regis let out a laugh.

“ You feel so good,” Dettlaff managed to get out. His fingers were tracing Regis’ chest, and after a while the doctor leaned back and pulled the shirt off. He let it dangle from his fingers, suddenly hesitant, and Dettlaff dragged him back against himself. He kissed Regis again, before reaching down and dragging his own shirt off. The feeling of bare skin made both of them kiss more fervently, fingers running over the new-found spaces and drawing out shudders.

Dettlaff wasn’t entirely sure when Regis started to move his hips, but by the time his conscious mind registered it, he was already pushing back into it. The friction was impossibly hot, and Dettlaff feared he might come completely undone. He drew back to look at Regis, taking in the wide pupils and hazy, happy expression.

“ Tell me if I’m moving too fast,” Dettlaff breathed, trying and failing to prevent himself from meeting Regis thrust for thrust. It was too much, and not even nearly enough.

Regis leaned to rest his forehead against Dettlaff’s. For a while, he looked like he was considering something.

“ I was just about to ask if you’d like to take me to bed,” he finally said, looking at Dettlaff closely.

Dettlaff swallowed, hugging Regis closer. “Of course,” he answered. “If you want me to.”

Regis smiled, a shy, happy expression that did more to Dettlaff’s heart than anything else. He kissed Regis again, trying to wrap his head around what was about to happen.

Dettlaff decided to leave the light off when he opened the door to his bedroom. It was a small space, mostly taken up by his comfy bed. He’d hung an old watercolor painting on the wall. The curtains were drawn, and the room was dim but inviting.

Dettlaff pulled Regis closer again, rubbing circles onto his back. He could tell he wasn’t the only one feeling a bit lost. When he managed to coax Regis to look him in the eye, Dettlaff smiled and kissed him. Regis relaxed against him, his hands mapping out Dettlaff’s chest and neck in tender strokes.

Dettlaff broke the kiss and leaned to press his lips to Regis’ neck, brushing more kisses along his jaw.

“ I haven’t done this before,” Dettlaff reminded Regis, kissing the skin just below his ear and making him shudder.

“ Me neither,” Regis answered, as his breathing grew shallow again. “But I want to.”

Dettlaff smiled. “Me too.”

In a rare show of certainty, Regis guided Dettlaff down onto the bed, and immediately pressed close. His leg ended up between Dettlaff’s thighs, and something about having Regis there, in his lap made Dettlaff whimper when they kissed again; it was better than anything he had dared to imagine, having Regis thrusting into his hip, breathing hot against his neck and smiling, smiling all the time like he couldn’t believe his senses.

Regis drew back when he heard the sound leave Dettlaff’s mouth, and suddenly his eyes grew a touch sharper. Dettlaff watched with wide eyes; he had never seen Regis look so calm. The doctor pushed Dettlaff’s head back and started kissing his way down his neck, and Dettlaff forgot all sensible thoughts immediately after.

He was so hard his pants had passed from uncomfortable to unbearable some time ago, and apparently Regis wasn’t doing much better. Deciding to trust in Regis and his ability to stop him if he went too far, Dettlaff let his hand slip lower, cupping Regis’ ass and grinding up at the same time. Pleasure slammed into him, and Regis actually groaned into his neck, repeating the motion immediately.

Then there were fingers brushing Dettlaff’s thigh, light and exploratory at first, then gaining more pressure and moving upwards. Dettlaff made another desperate sound when Regis cupped his erection through his pants, his hips bucking. Regis didn’t let go, but continued to massage him, until Dettlaff dragged him down into a messy kiss, his breath coming in ragged pants.

“ Regis, please,” Dettlaff rasped into his mouth, and Regis grinned at him. Dettlaff had never seen him grin before, and it was such a shocking difference it dealt a mental slap to him, leaving him hazy with lust. He had been used to being in charge in bedroom, and now he was going pliant in Regis’ hands, not minding it one bit. It was heady and felt safe, of all things.

Regis’ fingers made quick work of his belt and fly, and Dettlaff canted his hips up to allow the pants to be finally tugged off. His underwear went with them, but they were a lost cause; he had been leaking precome for a good while.

Regis watched him intently, and Dettlaff blushed. He was suddenly feeling shy, because this  _ was _ a night of firsts. He managed a smile, and his hands returned to Regis’ hips.

“ May I?” he asked, and Regis chuckled before nodding. Dettlaff managed to slip his belt open, but by then his fingers were getting shaky. He fumbled with the fly, but after a second Regis covered his hands with his own. He stilled the nervous movements, making them both take one mental step back and slow down.

“ Dettlaff,” Regis whispered. “It’s alright.”

Dettlaff looked away. He was suddenly so uncertain he didn’t know what to do. He had thought sex would work the same way, no matter the gender of his partner, but he was feeling totally lost.

The next thing he knew, Regis slipped his pants off before lying down. He hugged Dettlaff, and managed to make the younger man meet his eyes.

“ It’s alright,” Regis repeated. He pressed a soft kiss to Dettlaff’s lips. “This is more than enough.”

Dettlaff let himself relax against Regis, blowing out a breath. “Sorry, I just… I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Regis smiled, cupping his cheek and looking achingly tender. “That makes two of us.” His hand carefully returned to caress Dettlaff’s side. “Is it okay to touch?”

Dettlaff nodded. He kissed Regis slowly, his hand brushing against his back and side, while Regis continued to pet him. Little by little, his nerves calmed down, until he wasn’t resisting at all getting pulled closer. Dettlaff’s breath hitched when they pressed against each other.

Regis was still so calm, pressing kisses wherever he could reach, and somehow it seemed to Dettlaff that he was in control of the situation in some way that was inaccessible to him at the moment. It didn’t matter; in fact, the realization made him flush with pleasure.

“ You’re gorgeous,” Regis muttered in between kisses. “You feel so good.”

Dettlaff managed only another weak sound as Regis’ hand found his ass, stroking gently. It was maddening, and all his hesitation was melting away. Their hips were almost touching, and the space between them was growing hot. Then Regis’ cock brushed lightly against his, and Dettlaff gasped. His hand on Regis’ hip tightened, and the doctor drew in a breath.

“ What do you want?” Regis asked in a low voice.

Dettlaff tried to come up with something even remotely clever to say, but he was drawing a blank.

“ Anything,” he finally said, helpless and shivering. “Whatever you want to do.”

Regis smiled in return, and then he pressed closer, until they were touching everywhere. A hand wrapped around Dettlaff’s cock, light and careful, and Dettlaff let out another whimper. This was what he had tried to imagine on occasion, and by now he was certain his daydreams were doomed; nothing could compare to having Regis’ fingers around him, exploring and sending sparks of pleasure up his spine.

Regis stroked him, watching his face with keen eyes, and Dettlaff tried to remain coherent. It was futile, because there was nothing else in his mind but Regis’ black eyes burning into him. His hands tried to hold on to Regis, to anything to avoid simply floating away.

Regis dragged his thumb against the head of Dettlaff’s cock, and made his breath catch. Regis’ eyes were wide, and he was biting his lip, his face full of delight. He repeated the motion, and Dettlaff moaned, hot breaths ghosting over Regis’ face. All that had led them to this moment was weighing on him, and he was already so close, thrusting into Regis’ hand with no shame.

“ Goodness,” Regis laughed, his voice thick. “Come for me, my dear.”

The next stroke broke Dettlaff, his back arching as he came. Regis continued to pleasure him until he went slack, trying to catch his breath and make sense of the whirling cloud of love and want inside his head.

When Dettlaff finally managed to open his eyes and swallow, Regis was holding him. The doctor kissed his brow, looking careful and tender, and Dettlaff felt his heart grow certain that this was perfect.

He pushed up, hovering over Regis, who tilted his head and looked curious. His cheeks were flushed red, and as he licked his lips Dettlaff got an idea. He bent down to kiss him, and felt Regis’ hardness nudge his hip as they moved together, lazy and calm. Dettlaff pulled away, continuing shuffle down. He let his hands lead the way, looking for spots that made Regis’ breath hitch, and then made sure to press his tongue to them. He wanted to imprint Regis’ taste into his mind, and as his lover let out a surprised moan in answer to an open-mouthed kiss to his stomach, Dettlaff knew what he wanted to do.

He had never, ever imagined he’d want to suck another man’s cock, but here he was. He swept his tongue against Regis’ thigh, and at that the doctor seemed to realize what was about to happen. They stared at each other for a long while, until Dettlaff took Regis in his hand and started to stroke him slowly.

“ Can I try?” he asked. He had obviously been on the receiving end of this, and he craved doing it to Regis. That was all that mattered.

Regis blew out a breath, reaching his hand into Dettlaff’s hair. His blush was deepening again, and Dettlaff felt him grow heavier in his hand.

“ Gods, if you wish- I mean-” Regis blurted out, shaking his head and grinning breathlessly. “If you wish,” he repeated, looking incredulous and happy.

Dettlaff stroked him a couple of times, and then, without thinking too much about it, pressed his tongue against the head, licking along it, tasting everything. A choked whimper punched out of Regis, and the hand in Dettlaff’s hair tightened, sending his own blood rushing again.

The slick slide was perfect, he thought. He continued licking, and the sounds his lover made in response were downright indecent and lovely; breathless cries and moans, which told Dettlaff that Regis was enjoying this as much as he was.

Gathering his courage, Dettlaff allowed the head slip into his mouth, his lips wrapping around it. Regis seemed absolutely wrecked. His face was flushed and desperate, eyes glistening in the light spilling from the living room. Dettlaff sucked Regis down as far as he was able, and his own cock was throbbing again. He could tell he would never tire of doing this.

Regis hips twitched, and his cock grew heavier against Dettlaff’s tongue. Dettlaff started to move, carefully, trying to mind his teeth, and Regis cried out.

“ Ah, ha, I’m not going to-” he gasped, eyes closing as he tried to hang onto some control. “Dettlaff, I-”

Dettlaff knew what Regis was trying to say, and lust flashed through his head. He knew it was stupid and irresponsible, but right now he didn’t give a damn. Instead of pulling away, Dettlaff sucked harder, and then Regis came, his hips bucking and breath coming in frantic gasps.

It tasted salty, and Dettlaff moaned around Regis’ cock as he tried to swallow everything down. Any fears he might have had about giving head to another man were evaporating, because he could find nothing distasteful about it. He only wished they would do it again.

When he finally pulled up, Regis was staring at him, jaw slack and eyes full of wonder. Dettlaff wiped his mouth as he laid back down, and after a moment’s hesitation Regis dragged him closer. He kissed Dettlaff frantically, not seeming to mind the taste at all, and Dettlaff went loose with relief, wrapping his arm around Regis’ waist.

“ That was rather more than I expected,” Regis said, his voice slightly hoarse. His mouth quirked up, and Dettlaff blushed.

“ I’m sorry?” he offered, and Regis shook his head, laughing.

“ No need. But I must say we’re behaving very irresponsibly for two adults, one of whom happens to be a doctor.”

Dettlaff’s blush deepened and he grimaced. “Sorry about that, I wasn’t thinking clearly. If it’s of any consolation, I’m quite certain I don’t have anything I could pass onto you.”

Regis’ smiled gently, brushing a kiss against Dettlaff’s cheek. “The fault is equally mine, and while I don’t think you have anything to worry about, either, I’d like us both to get tested.” He fell silent, and then seemed to force himself to continue: “That is, if you want to-”

Dettlaff saw the uncertainty return, and it was the thing that sealed this for him. He could never walk away from Regis now. Not when he already yearned to continue exploring this with him, and find all the ways he could make Regis lose himself.

He wanted to say the three words again, but bit them back. Not yet.

“ I want to be with you,” Dettlaff said instead. Regis looked back at him, his eyes cloudy with worry, but his slow smile chased them away.

“You’re everything I hoped for,” Regis responded.

He settled more comfortably against Dettlaff, smelling of sex and radiating contentedness. It looked good on him.

**Author's Note:**

> The poems quoted:  
> Harold Pinter: "It Is Here"  
> Sirkka Turkka: a poem from the collection "So Bitterly The Wind Struck"


End file.
